


Room One-Ten

by Charmsilver



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nurse Bucky, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9575543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmsilver/pseuds/Charmsilver
Summary: “Hey – Barnes. Someone’s asking for you in room one-ten.”“Uh. Okay? Who?”Natasha shrugs and twirls the pen she’s holding. “I don’t know. Short, blond, very polite. Called me ma’am and everything.” She smiles in amusement, as if she can’t believe Bucky knows anyone quite so gracious.Bucky blinks. There’s only one person he knows who fits that description. And he is going to kill him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea that Natasha and Bucky have an affectionately hostile relationship. Like, grudging best friends. 
> 
> Also, next time I'm determined to write a fic where Natasha isn't relegated to the position of omniscient matchmaker. I really need to be better with that. She deserves so much more.
> 
> Anyway, I wrote this for you. Enjoy!

“Hey – Barnes. Someone’s asking for you in room one-ten.”

Bucky, who had been scrubbing a recently vacated bed, cranes his neck back so he can see the person standing in the doorway. It’s Natasha; she’s trying to look uninterested, but Bucky can tell that she’s curious. He swipes the hair out of his face with the back of his arm.

“Uh. Okay? Who?”

She shrugs and twirls the pen she’s holding. “I don’t know. Short, blond, _very_ polite. Called me ma’am and everything.” She smiles in amusement, as if she can’t believe Bucky knows anyone quite so gracious.

Bucky blinks. There’s only one person he knows who fits that description. And he is going to kill him.

“Shit,” he says, throwing the grimy cloth he’d been holding in a nearby bucket. It hits the bottom with a wet slap. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first tonight. He looks pretty rough.”

“Shit,” Bucky curses again. “Room one-ten, you said?”

“Uh huh.” Natasha gives him a pointed look and blocks his way out the door. “Who is he, Barnes?”

Bucky growls, but Natasha’s an immoveable force when she wants to be, and the fastest way out of this is to just tell her.

“He’s a friend,” he says, plucking her hand from the doorframe so he can squeeze past. “I’ll see you round.”

He can almost feel Natasha’s narrowed eyes boring into his soul as he walks away from her, but he doesn’t stop to flip her off. Room one-ten is just down the hall, and Bucky reaches the door in less than a minute. He pushes inside, looking left and right until he finds Steve behind one of the curtains, his head propped up on some of the blue hospital pillows.

When Bucky steps into view, Steve grins, though the effect is somewhat lost between his bloody split lip, swollen eye, and bruised jaw.

“Hey, Bucky,” he says a little sheepishly. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“The hell happened?” Bucky asks, reaching forward to inspect the purple shadows sprawling across Steve’s jaw. “No – wait. Let me guess.” He sighs and pushes the hair out of his eyes. “Someone said something you didn’t like. You picked a fight. And they pummelled the daylights out of you?”

Steve frowns, or pouts, really. “When you put it like that…”

“It’s always like that, Steve,” Bucky sighs. “But you’re okay though, right?” He touches the pads of his fingers to the left of Steve’s puffy eye.

“I’m fine,” he says, though he leans into Bucky’s hand a little, eyelids fluttering shut.

“Ribs?” Bucky asks, gently probing at Steve’s chest to check for broken bones.

Grimacing, Steve flinches and gives Bucky a Look. “Nothing’s broken,” he says. “Just – tender.”

Bucky perches himself on the edge of the bed and watches Steve for a moment; he seems tired, and Bucky can tell that he’s got a pounding headache. Gently, he smooths the hair back from Steve’s forehead. “You’re an idiot,” he tells him, though it comes out more affectionate than chastising. “You need anything?”

Steve sighs and shuts his eyes. “No, I’m good.”

“Okay, well, I’ve gotta get back to work. But I’ll check up on you on my next break, all right?”

“Yeah, all right. Thanks, Buck.” Steve grins softly at him and Bucky pats his leg, giving him one last exasperated look before standing and striding out of the room. As soon as he enters the hallway, Natasha falls into step beside him; she’d obviously been lying in wait and Bucky glares at her, hoping she won’t ask him what he knows she will.

“So,” she says with an air of nonchalance. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Funny.”

“Drop it, Natasha.”

“Hm.” She seems to consider this, but then her eyes flick back to Bucky and she gazes at him shrewdly. Before Bucky can escape through the next set of double doors, she steps lightly in front of him, obstructing his path. “Why didn’t you want to tell me?” she asks, searching Bucky’s face for an answer.

He grimaces and avoids her eyes. “’Cause I knew you’d be like this,” he says.

Natasha crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m only _like this_ because you’re being cagey. Are you afraid I’ll talk to him, is that it?”

Bucky grits his teeth, but he forces himself to look at Natasha. Her face is set with determination and Bucky knows there’s no point in fighting her anymore.

“Fine,” he says. “That’s him. That’s Steve.”

Her lips quirk up into a small but triumphant smile. “Was that so bad?” she asks sweetly.

“Just –“ Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “Stay out of it, okay? I know what I told you, but I really don’t want him to find out, so please just…” he trails off, but Natasha picks up the thread immediately.

“You think I would tell him?” She shakes her head. “Barnes, I’m really not in the habit of playing the messenger. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only person who can tell him how you feel.”

Startled, Bucky meets her eyes again. He had never meant to tell Natasha about his feelings for Steve, but they had gone out for drinks after work one night and after a few too many shots he’d been spilling his guts about the whole thing: how they’d been friends since childhood, how Steve had moved in with Bucky after his mom died, and how Bucky’d been pining after him since before he could remember. Bucky can still picture the image of Natasha sitting across from him in that bar, her head tilted to one side and resting on her palm, hair a red curtain across her cheek, her lips forming the words _Tell him_.

But Bucky couldn’t; he was afraid of the consequences.

“You’re not going to say anything to him?” he asks, relieved.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “No. Are you?”

“I –“ Bucky bites the inside of his lip and scowls at her. “You know I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” But she doesn’t let him answer. She turns away from him and pushes the door open, shooting him one last knowing glance before striding away down the next corridor.

Bucky lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding and sinks back against the wall for a second. Then, taking another deep breath in, he gathers himself together and goes back to work. There are patients waiting, after all.

After about an hour or two he’s able to take a ten-minute break, and Bucky hurries to Steve’s room to check on him. He is still propped up against the pillows, but a tray holding a single juice box and a sandwich is now positioned in front of him. Steve grins as Bucky enters, despite the fact that his eye is even puffier than before.

“Natasha brought me something to eat,” he explains, gesturing to the juice box. “She’s been real good.”

Bucky makes a mental note to thank Natasha later for taking such good care of Steve. Bucky would have liked to be the one doing it, but he wasn’t rostered on to this room. “That’s great,” he says, taking the seat next to Steve’s bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a train,” Steve says cheerfully. “Actually it’s not so bad. My head aches, is all.”

“That’ll be the concussion,” Bucky says drily, and Steve nods.

“They’re gonna let me sleep in an hour or so, so that’s good. But they won’t let me go home since no one’s gonna be there.”

“Well,” Bucky says, “I’m with you either way, pal.”

Something soft flits across Steve’s face. “I do feel like an idiot though. I think Natasha was only just holding back her laughter when I told her what happened.”

Bucky grins. “Sorry about her,” he says and Steve laughs.

“She’s been great though.”

“That’s because she knows I’d kill her if she didn’t look after you.”

Steve laughs brightly. “You know, I think she could take you without even batting an eye.”

“Shut up,” Bucky huffs, leaning back in the chair. “Last I checked, you were the one with the shiner.”

Steve shrugs, but he’s smiling still. “How long till your shift ends?”

The clock on the wall says eleven-thirty, but Bucky’s pretty sure it’s slow. “About five hours,” he says. “Sorry, looks like you’ll be staying the night.”

Steve sighs, slumping a little. “I hate hospitals,” he mutters.

Bucky twists his mouth into a sympathetic smile. “I know, pal.” He curls his fingers around Steve’s bony shoulder and squeezes. “At least you can get some sleep soon. I gotta get back to work now, but I’ll come by again later.”

“Okay.” Steve nods, but Bucky thinks he looks disappointed. At that moment Natasha peeks her head around the curtain, eyes glinting when she sees Bucky’s hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Hello, boys,” she says genially. Steve waves and Bucky narrows his eyes, though he’s glad she’s here; that way he doesn’t have to leave Steve by himself. He unglues himself from the chair and wanders over to where Natasha’ hovering. They glare at each other for a second, then Bucky turns back to Steve.

“See you round, Steve. Get good sleep.”

Steve smiles weakly at him, already looking like he could drop off at any moment. “Thanks, Buck. I’ll see you later.” Natasha takes Bucky’s place beside Steve and begins removing some of the pillows so he can lie down. Seeing that he’s well cared for, Bucky makes his way from the room, though he feels an almost irresistible urge to return and curl up beside Steve on the bed.

Later, in the quiet hours of the morning, Natasha finds him tidying up the roster on the whiteboard.

“Your friend’s still asleep,” she tells him, dropping into a chair and stretching her legs out in front of her. She pulls the band out of her hair and combs her fingers through it idly. “I see why you like him,” she says, now dragging her coppery hair back into a tight bun.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Bucky says, a little shortly, perhaps.

Natasha shrugs. “Fine. What do you think of the new doctor?”

“Doctor Hill?” Bucky erases a particularly wobbly line of the board and redraws it with a ruler. “Dunno. Haven’t had much to do with her yet.”

“On her first day a guy came in with a bullet wound in his chest. She didn’t lose it though, just took him straight to surgery and saved his life.”

“Wow,” says Bucky, looking over his shoulder at Natasha. “She must be good if she impressed you.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “It’s refreshing to see a female doctor around here. Between Banner, Stark and Wilson, the testosterone levels were through the roof.”

Bucky can’t disagree. He copies the last name into the roster and puts the coloured pens back in the drawer. Natasha is watching him with that vague yet ominous look that she does so well.

“Do you want coffee?” he asks her, moving towards the jug. “I’m gonna make some.”

It doesn’t seem like she’s heard him, because the next thing she says is, “you know they brought him here in an ambulance, right?”

Bucky freezes, his back to her, his hand poised over the button on the jug. “What?”

“He was in real bad shape at first. He was barely conscious.”

Something like panic squeezes its way up Bucky’s throat, even though he knows Steve is safe. “He – what?” Natasha is staring at him, face an impassive mask.

“But he kept saying this one word over and over. He was concussed and delirious, and it made no sense to any of us at the time…” she trails off, mouth quirking into a wry smile. “Do you know what he was saying?”

“Um.” Bucky blinks, mind reeling. “No?”

“He was saying ‘Bucky’. Just ‘Bucky’, over and over.” Her eyes lock onto his. “None of us knew he was talking about you until later.”

Bucky feels rooted to the spot. Of course. Of course they didn’t know. Here in the hospital, he was James, or Barnes. Not Bucky. But Steve had only ever called him that, and he had asked for him as soon as he arrived, but nobody knew it. Something like guilt crashes through Bucky; Steve had asked for him and he hadn’t been there.

“Uh.” He clears his throat, “I have to – go.” He hurries out of the door, leaving Natasha alone in the break room. Forcing himself to walk, Bucky heads down the corridor until he finds room one-ten, and he enters quietly, stealing between the beds until he finds Steve’s alcove.

Steve is asleep on his back, his head twisted to the side and his mouth parted slightly. Bucky stands over him for a moment, feeling wretchedness and longing in equal measure. After a moment’s hesitation he mouths _fuck it_ and slips onto the bed beside Steve, who’s so small he leaves a space large enough for Bucky to slide into. Though Bucky tries to be gentle, he jostles Steve as he settles down, one arm curled protectively around Steve’s belly, hand curling over his hipbone, and Steve stirs into wakefulness, eyes blinking in the near-darkness and fixing on Bucky’s face.

“Hi,” he whispers, uncertainty in his voice.

Bucky buries his head in Steve’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me that you came in an ambulance?” he asks. “Natasha says you were in real bad shape, and that you were –“

“Hey,” Steve shushes him, rubbing a hand over Bucky’s arm. “I barely even remember arriving,” he jokes, smiling despite Bucky’s thin frown.

“She said you asked for me,” Bucky presses on. “But they didn’t know who you meant. Nobody calls me Bucky around here so they didn’t get me until later.”

Steve’s hand comes up to cup Bucky’s cheek. He smiles softly. “Buck, I’ve had worse. You know I’ve had worse. I was half-unconscious, probably just saying the first thing that came into my head.”

Bucky pulls his head back so he can look at Steve properly. “But you were asking for me,” he says.

To his surprise, Steve blushes and looks away. And something clicks into place in Bucky’s head. A pleasant feeling unfurls inside his stomach. Steve was asking for him. For _Bucky_. Even when he barely knew what he was saying, even with his head was split open and his body bruised, Steve was asking for Bucky.

“Steve,” Bucky breathes into the space between them. “I have an idea.”

“Okay?” Steve looks confused, and for a moment Bucky’s courage deserts him, but then Steve’s palm slides onto his chest and stays there, warm even through Bucky’s scrubs, fingers curled slightly. Bucky rubs his thumb over Steve’s hip, watching with immeasurable hope as Steve’s eyes flutter shut and his lungs expel a tiny, halting sigh.

Bucky leans close and brushes his nose against Steve’s cheek. He wants to be sure first, just in case this isn’t what Steve wants. But Steve doesn’t pull away; his face actually tilts towards Bucky’s and their lips bump. Heart beating fast, Bucky presses them together properly for a brief and chaste kiss.

Steve pulls away first, eyes bright and lips twisting into a grin. “That was a good idea,” he says, “but I’m real tired, Buck.” He yawns into Bucky’s neck. “Mind if I sleep a bit more now?”

Alight with happiness, Bucky huffs in amusement and presses his lips to Steve’s temple. “’Course, Steve. I’ll be finished in a couple of hours, then we can go home.”

“Great,” Steve says, eyes already closed. “Thanks, Bucky.”

Bucky lies beside him for a minute longer, watching the rise and fall of his chest beneath the sheets, then he slips quietly off the bed and out of the room, unable to keep a jubilant bounce out of his step.

Natasha notices immediately, of course. Bucky tends to a number of patients before he sees her, but when Bucky ducks into the tea room for a quick snack, Natasha’s there, sipping from a chipped mug. She raises an eyebrow when he enters, lowering the cup so she can appraise him properly.

“Someone’s happy,” she says, her lips twitching at the corners.

Bucky pokes his tongue at her and grabs his chocolate bar from the fridge; he unwraps the foil and pops a piece into his mouth. “My shift’s almost over,” he says, as if this is the reason for his happiness.

Natasha smiles like she knows he’s lying, which she almost certainly does. “Lucky for you,” she says.

“Yep.” Bucky stuffs another couple of pieces of chocolate into his mouth.

Then her smile softens and she winks. “I’m happy for you,” she says.

Bucky rolls his eyes but his smile widens. Even though Natasha’s far too sharp for her own good, she’s still kind of the best. “Thanks,” he says, eating the last piece of chocolate and heading for the door. “I’ll catch you later in the week?”

“Thursday,” she confirms, glancing at the now tidy whiteboard. “See you then.”

Bucky checks his watch; twenty minutes left on his shift. He does one last round of the patients, most of whom are asleep, before heading to room one-ten and Steve’s bedside.

Steve’s fast asleep, head tilted to the side as before. Gently, Bucky nudges his shoulder. “Time to get up, Steve,” he murmurs, as Steve scrunches his nose and mutters something indistinct. “C’mon, pal,” Bucky says, and Steve opens his eyes, glaring half-heartedly at Bucky. “Ready to go home?” he asks, and Steve’s glare turns to a look of relief.

“Definitely,” he says. Then he looks up at Bucky with a mixture of hesitation and longing, and who is Bucky to resist such a look?

As Steve levers himself up into a sitting position, Bucky places his hands on either side of his waist and kisses him soundly on the mouth. Steve makes a pleased noise and sinks into it, lips pliable and soft between Bucky’s. They break apart and lean against each other for a moment, foreheads pressed together.

Bucky helps Steve out of the bed, supporting him with an arm around his back. Steve is wobbly on his feet, but grits his teeth and manages to stand upright, though he leans into Bucky’s side all the same. “Take it easy,” Bucky says, as Steve lurches towards the door, nearly tripping over his own socked feet. Steve only snorts, latching his fingers around Bucky’s wrist to steady himself.

With Bucky’s help he gets his clothes on, though his jacket is bloody and beyond salvation. Without complaint he lets Bucky lace up his shoes, and even permits him to give his bruises one last check over.

“I’m good,” he says when Bucky has finished buttoning up his shirt. He peers up at Bucky with those ridiculous blue eyes that always manage to make Bucky’s heart stutter and plants his feet securely on the ground. Taking a deep breath, he says, “let’s go.”

Nodding, Bucky leads Steve out of the hospital, one arm still slung around his waist.

To Bucky’s horror, they meet Natasha in the hallway carrying an armful of new syringes. She looks up as they approach and gives them a radiant smile which Bucky knows is only for show. Before Bucky can drag Steve away from her and to safety, Steve tugs on his arm and forces them to stop. “Just a sec, Buck,” he says, detaining Bucky with a hand on his chest. “I wanna thank Nat.”

_Nat_? Bucky stares in bewilderment at Steve, then at Natasha, who’s grinning a sly grin now. Like a fox with a chicken in its mouth. “Hey, Steve,” she says. “You’re looking better.”

“I’m great,” he says, and the brazen honesty in his voice startles Bucky so much that he forgets to be disgruntled.

“I’m glad,” Natasha says. “This guy’s been worrying about you all night.” She indicates Bucky with a tilt of her head, and Steve glances up at him with a warm radiance that makes Bucky’s insides squirm.

“I do have a habit of getting into… situations,” Steve admits.

Natasha smirks. “So it seems.” She’s looking at Bucky as she says it, but he’s filled with such a sudden, swooping happiness that he can’t even think of a retort.

“Thanks, though,” Steve continues, “for looking after me when,” he makes a vague motion with his hand, but Bucky knows what he meant.

_when Bucky couldn’t._

Bucky pulls Steve a little tighter to him and curves his face ever so slightly nearer towards Steve’s head. He doesn’t even care that Natasha’s watching them with interest.

“Anytime,” she says, standing aside to let them pass. “See ya round,” she says to Steve, “make sure you look after this one.” She indicates Bucky again, who glares indignantly.

But Steve only laughs. “I will, don’t worry,” he says, waving goodbye to Natasha as they continue down the corridor. Bucky turns his head back and pokes his tongue out at her, and she raises her eyebrows, watching them as they walk away.

“She’s nice,” Steve says as they emerge into the outside air, grey in the pre-dawn light. “You never mentioned her before.”

“Didn’t I?” Bucky says, guiding Steve across the carpark.

“Nope.” Steve is flagging a little, and Bucky can tell that the bruises on his chest and stomach are causing him pain. Bucky strengthens his grip, holding Steve a little more upright. “She said you were friends.”

Huh.

“Uh.” Bucky considers this. “I guess we are, yeah.”

“We should have her over for dinner one time,” Steve rambles on. “Or maybe that would be weird.” He shrugs and leans a little more heavily on Bucky, who resists the urge to spin Steve around and kiss him again.

Dinner with Natasha and Steve, though. That would be an interesting evening. Bucky suppresses a laugh. “Whatever you want,” he says placidly as they reach the place his motorcycle is parked. He has to let go of Steve to get the helmet, and though Steve fusses, he manages to successfully wrap Steve in his jacket, too big though it is. Steve looks impossibly adorable, his fingers barely peeking our from the sleeves and his torso drowning in the overlarge swathe of fabric.

Bucky hops on the bike first, while Steve sways a little without an arm to lean against. But it’s only for a second, and as soon as Bucky’s seated he reaches for Steve, who mounts the bike gingerly and awkwardly, gripping Bucky’s shoulder and wincing as he swings his leg over the other side.

“Okay?” Bucky asks, twisting to look at Steve.

“Mm,” Steve murmurs, and he wraps his arms tightly around Bucky’s front so his hands overlap. His head presses against Bucky’s back for a second, and then he turns it to the side so his cheek is snug between Bucky’s shoulder blades.

As Bucky revs the engine and the bike vibrates to life, he feels Steve’s entire body pressing sleepily against him, his face nuzzling lightly at the folds of his sweater. Warmth fills Bucky and he smiles, despite the cold wind that whips through the pores of his clothing. They’ve ridden like this a thousand times before, but never has Bucky allowed himself to enjoy it, never has the weight of Steve’s body felt so significant.

It takes less than ten minutes to get home, which is lucky because Steve is already half asleep by the time Bucky switches the engine off.

“You’re gonna have to hop off first,” he tells Steve softly, squeezing his arm where it’s coiled over his stomach.

Steve mumbles something indistinct and slides off the bike, teetering a bit as he gets his balance. Bucky follows suits, steadying Steve with one hand and securing the bike quickly with the other. Steve blinks at him as they turn towards the steps, his cheeks flushed from the wind and eyes half-closed with sleepiness. Bucky smiles, pausing so he can skim the tips of his fingers over Steve’s cheek.

“C’mon,” he says, leading Steve towards the door.

Once indoors, Bucky ushers Steve straight to his bedroom, where he lowers him gently onto the bed. Steve sits quite still, lifting a hand to rest against his side where Bucky knows a particularly painful gash is hidden beneath bandages. His face is pale, and he shuts his eyes for a minute, just breathing.

Bucky darts from the room and fills a glass of water, which he takes to Steve. Shaky hands grip the glass as he sips it slowly, handing it back to Bucky when he’s done. Bucky crouches down and removes Steve’s shoes, pants and shirt, leaving him in his boxers.

“You need something for the pain?” he asks, as Steve winces again.

Steve shakes his head, but Bucky gets him a paracetamol anyway, helping him tip back the water so he can swallow it down. Then he pulls back the covers on the bed and helps Steve into it. The light outside is growing brighter, but as Bucky watches Steve’s eyes flutter shut again, he finally allows himself to acknowledge his own exhaustion. Yawning, he leans forward and places a kiss on Steve’s forehead. For a split second, he forgets about their kiss in the hospital and he feels heat rush to his face, as if he’d done something he shouldn’t have.

But then Steve’s arm snakes out from under the covers and slings itself around Bucky’s shoulders pulling him in close. Nuzzling the soft spot of Bucky’s neck, Steve murmurs, “stay with me, Buck.”

Never one to deny Steve anything, Bucky kicks off his shoes and wriggles in beside Steve, one arm draping over Steve’s hip. Bucky matches his breathing with Steve’s and allows himself to relax.

As he drifts away, he makes another mental note to thank Natasha. And then his mind switches off and the dreams come.


End file.
